


Fever Dream

by itsliyah_lovee, WoxliMischief



Category: Let's Play (Webcomic)
Genre: Angst, Arguing, F/M, Illnesses, One Night Stands
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-04
Updated: 2020-09-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:01:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26283097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsliyah_lovee/pseuds/itsliyah_lovee, https://archiveofourown.org/users/WoxliMischief/pseuds/WoxliMischief
Summary: This is a collaborative work featuring starring Charles Jones and Sam Young from Let's Play.All Let's Play Characters created by Mongie and any resemblence to the original story is purely coincidental. This is an AU divergent fiction.
Relationships: Charles Jones/Sam Young (Let's Play)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 60





	1. 1

_ Monday - _

Charles rolled over in bed, his hands balling into frustrated fists again. He still couldn’t sleep. He found himself gazing at his stairs, replaying the sight of a beautiful and sweet brunette swaying toward him with carnal intent. He groaned, smacked his pillow and pushed himself into a sitting position, giving up on sleep. 

Charles wondered for possibly the hundredth time since Friday why he couldn’t shake the guilt and pain from his chest. He hadn’t touched her. He’d done the right thing, so why did it make him ache like he was hollow? He glanced at the clock that glared 4:53 back at him almost accusingly. He considered using a sick day, but he was pretty sure that would make him a coward.

Speeding through his morning routine in a haze, Charles found himself in his closet staring down at the blue Oxford shirt that Samara had left in a heap on his floor. He gulped and closed his eyes against the memory that wouldn’t leave him. This was going to be a difficult Monday. He was going to have to fight to maintain his professionalism with her with the memory of her skin under his hand. 

“Telling her no was the right thing.” He said aloud. It still didn’t sound convincing, even days later.

…

  
  


Charles sat at his desk, computer open with the Indgineer project glowing at him. Everything he had to do today was going to remind him of her, and she’d be here soon. His heart was in his throat. 

The knock he both longed for and dreaded sounded at his door and he cleared his throat, “Enter!” He called, sounding too bright even for his own ears. He frowned at himself as his door swung inward and every thought in his head flew away.

“M-Miss Young. Good morning.”  _ She’s trying to kill me _ , his brain screamed at him. His sweet, innocent and generally very shy assistant seemed to be missing today. In her place stood a vision in blue. The dress hugged every ample curve and tight plane of her body, accentuating that tiny waist he remembered…

Charles shook himself. “Hello, Charles. We have three meetings today. Do you want to do my exercise this morning?” She raised a questioning brow at him and seemed...unaffected. This rankled him. “Of course, Samara. Please proceed when you’re ready.” 

She nodded at him and set her coffee on his desk, leaning forward and his eyes danced down briefly at her curves before settling on her face again. She was smirking at him. This was..new.

And of course, for once she didn’t even hesitate. She proudly put her hands on her hips and stood there in her power pose, looking him square in the eye. “I love that I’m not easily discouraged by setbacks.” Charles couldn’t keep his eyes from getting wide.  _ That sounded...challenging. _

As if she hadn’t just thrown a gauntlet at him, she swiped her coffee from his desk and glided to the door. She paused just before she shut him inside and said, “I’ll meet you at the car in 40 minutes, Charles, unless there’s anything else?”

“Nothing for now, Miss Young. That was well done.” The door clicked closed behind her and he sank his face into his hands. He had to spend the whole day with her, mostly alone in the car. He’d forgotten. “Oh fy nuw.” He muttered into his palms and rubbed the bridge of his nose. 

…

Hours later and his day wasn’t getting any easier. “Miss Young, we have a break for lunch. Anything in particular you’d like.” 

“Not particularly,” She murmured absently, a pen cap in that infernally lovely mouth. Her focus was fully on a stack of papers in her lap. In fact, she’d hardly paid attention to him all morning. The distance in her eyes was making him distinctly uncomfortable. “I’m not especially hungry,” she continued, “I could probably skip it.”

“Absolutely not. We have the time and you’ll not be neglecting your health while you’re in my care!” His voice came out far sharper than he intended. She looked up then and stared at him, obviously wanting to say something. “I can see you have something to say. You might as well share.”

“If it doesn’t relate to work, I don’t think you get to make demands of me right now.” She said it softly, but the car seemed to echo with the words. 

“I thought we were friends, Samara.” His voice was slightly pleading, and he didn’t like it at all. “A friend wouldn’t let you take actions so clearly dangerous to your well being.” He knew this conversation wasn’t about lunch any more.

“I think you were the one who told me my friends protect me too much, and I should be allowed to make my own decisions. You don’t get to backtrack just because you don’t like what I might decide.”

“Samara...Miss Young I…” 

“It’s fine, Charles. Just pick a place. I’ll have some lunch. You’re probably right, I’m going to need the energy to finish the rest of these meetings. Demetre is next. He wants to discuss the data migration process.” Samara changed the subject smoothly, and with far more confidence than he had at the moment. Charles took the escape gratefully.

“That’s a fair concern. Mr. Harris’s current database is nearing its limits and a large migration of this type has lots of potential for disaster. I’m sure you’ll help to reassure him.”

“I’m looking forward to seeing Demetre, again, too. He’s not as scary as I originally thought he’d be.” Her eyes fluttered back down to the papers in her lap and he squeezed his steering wheel, praying for the day to be over. Having her so near was the softest torture he could remember feeling, and having her seem so indifferent to him was killing him.

He thought back to the offer from Ellesmere. Maybe it was time to get himself out of this situation for good. It would be better for both of them if he got away from her. 

“Samara, I hope you understand that I didn’t stop you the other night because I didn’t want you. I stopped you because I…”

“Charles, please. I told you last week if you’re going to reject me, not to bring it up. I think that rule needs to stand. You may be attracted to me but you don’t want me the way I am now. I understand. Let’s not dwell on it, since we need to work together. I told you I’d get over these feelings but you have to let me have a chance to.” Her interruption was sharp, and harsher than he’d ever heard from her. His brows tented in concern from the obvious pain in her voice.

“I do want you, Samara, and that’s the problem.” He glanced at her out of the side of his eyes. 

She just stared down at the paperwork in her lap and said nothing. 

_ Damn it, Jones, stop being an idiot! _ He raged at himself internally. Parking the sleek black vehicle at a small cafe he thought she might enjoy, he made up his mind.

He was calling Ellesmere tomorrow and accepting the position. Now he just had to stay in control until he left. The issue was, she constantly tested that control, even now as she sat with him in the car doing nothing to provoke it. Her presence was enough and it became harder to reject her when she became firm or gentle. It was a dangerous dance — a dance that would surely make him go against everything he stood for. Hell, even the calculated risk he took with one sweet kiss had ended with him in a hole deeper than he was prepared to climb out of.

Charles walked around to open her door, to find her already climbing out of the car and smoothing the creases from her dress. “Do you want to lock the papers in the trunk?” She looked up at him, her face inscrutable. “Or I can bring them inside, but I’m not sure I trust myself to be graceful enough to keep them from getting ruined.” He nodded at her, curtly, and thumbed the remote in his hand to open the trunk for her. 

With her hands free, he followed her inside the restaurant. He wanted to reach out and take her hand in his. He wanted to palm her lower back and guide her. He just wanted to touch her again, any way he could, but there was a wall there now and he knew it was all his fault. Taking this position would rectify everything. He’d get himself back under control, and she would be safe from him soon.

They found a table and the silence between them seemed to stretch and pull at him. He’d heard her hesitate before ordering a coffee and his gut clenched. He cleared his throat softly and then asked, “Samara, are you sure you’re alright? I know that I feel...at a loss now that things have changed between us.”

“Charles, I’ll be fine. Things have decidedly  _ not _ changed between us, no matter what I wanted. We’ll go back to normal soon. I just need time. I’m not going to make problems for you, so please don’t worry.” Samara hung her head and he couldn’t stop himself from reaching across the table and lifting her chin. 

“Listen to me, Miss Young. I’m not worried about myself. I’ve obviously hurt you and I did not intend to do so. I was trying to  _ avoid _ causing you anguish. Can’t you see that?”

“I...I really don’t. I suspect we see things very differently. I don’t know enough to see it from your perspective. I wish I could reassure you but I can’t. I’ll  _ try _ to let it go. Is that enough?”

He searched her face, wishing he could make her understand just how precious her kindness and loyalty really were. He let out a deep sigh and settled his shoulders, releasing her. “Before I forget, take a look at your card. If you approve the name and layout, I’ll have your cards ordered before the end of the day.” He handed her a thick embossed business card that read,  _ Samara Young, Assistant to the General Manager, Young Technologies. _

“O-Oh? I need a card?” She fidgeted with the corner of the card, obviously put off.

“Of course you do. You’re part of the management team and you handle a lot of our communication. Your work phone should be at Lucy’s desk when we arrive back at the office as well.” He smiled at her, enjoying the shock on her face. “Did you think you were a secretary? Samara, an executive assistant is one of the most important members of the management team. Everything of import crosses your desk.” 

“I just don’t think I’m that important, Charles.” He felt those words deep in his gut. “I still don’t know that I’ve earned this.”

“Bunty, please. You’re the most capable young woman I know. You have integrity and intelligence, and you have the creativity to use them effectively. You only lack experience and the self-confidence you need to be a major force. The first will take care of itself, as for the second...I had hoped you were beginning to understand how much confidence I have in you.”

“Ch-Charles…” She ducked her head, briefly, that lovely blush that made him smile so often heating her face. “Thank you. I love the card. I’ll try not to let you or my dad down.”

A lump formed in his throat and he firmly placed his hands in his lap before gritting out, “My pleasure, Miss Young. Let me get the check so we can make our next meeting.” Charles got up and paid at the counter, slipping another card out of his pocket and tossing it into the bin while she wasn’t looking. This one, the original draft, read  _ Samara Young Assistant to Charles Jones (General Manager). _

  
  



	2. 2

_ Monday the next _

“Well, Jones, I can’t say I’m going to miss you. Good luck.” Charles felt his hand being crushed slightly by the big man’s handshake, Charles sensing that Samuel Young Sr had every intent on adding such pressure around his hand. “And don’t let the door hit you.”

“Thank you, Mr Young.”  _ I think. _ “If I may, I think Umed would be an excellent replacement, especially with Miss Young to assist him. I can start training him Monday, after the announcement goes out. Unless you have another replacement in mind?” Charles leaned back into the chair, and glanced at the notes he took when assessing the employees working under him the last week. Umed was certainly the most well rounded of the options. To do any better, they’d need to hire externally. Charles was fairly uneasy about bringing in a stranger to supervise the team, especially Samara. He’d just have to be sure that whoever replaced him was willing to help her develop. He would see that his word was kept.

“We’ll have you for another three weeks after this, right? Will that be enough time to get him up to speed? I notice you’re not suggesting my Pumpkin take over for you.” Samuel’s stern voice didn’t ring with its usual rancor. 

“Sir, if I thought Miss Young would be willing to work with clients on a direct basis, I wouldn’t hesitate to endorse her. She’s got a knack for understanding what clients need. She just doesn’t want to  _ talk _ to any of them. Besides she’s still new at management. She needs experience before I’d give her a team. Probably another six months...and maybe a  _ Toastmasters _ course. I did mean to thank you for allowing her to assist me. I’ve never seen anyone complete administrative work at that pace.” Charles tapped his notebook against his leg in agitation. “That’s not a bad idea actually. A basic public speaking course for everyone on the development team. It would improve their communication, if nothing else, and help you spot employees with management potential.”

“I’ll consider it. Have Umed report to me this afternoon and I’ll discuss the promotion with him, and I’ll let you explain it to Pumpkin.” Samuel smiled with an evil glint in his eye. 

“A-Ah. Thank you, sir.” Charles drew in a breath, wondering why his employer suddenly looked gleeful.

“My daughter has a temper when things change too rapidly. Good luck to you. See yourself out, Jones. I need to update human resources.” Samuel turned to his PC as if Charles wasn’t even there. Obviously dismissed, Charles rose and strode purposefully towards his assistant’s office down the hall. 

He hesitated, not enjoying the sudden tightness that formed in his gut. He stared at the door and steeled himself, took a settling breath, and knocked. “Come in!” Her muffled call reached his ears and he pushed through the safety of the barrier.

He stopped cold.  _ You have to be imagining this, Jones. _

“Yes, Charles?” Samara looked up at him after he stood there for an indeterminate amount of time without speaking, “Is something wrong?”

“Wrong?” He managed to ask, dazed. His tiny assistant was in a suit. A. Suit. It was a deep forest green and made her eyes look like shaded pools. There was even a little feminine tie at her throat, nestled in the collar of a frilly mint blouse. She looked delectable and he still hadn’t restarted his brain. “I apologize, I lost my train of thought. I…” He tugged at his tie, trying to recover from the spell she’d cast on him.

She tilted her head at him, not knowing how adorable it made her, but she didn’t say anything. She just waited for him to speak. 

For reasons he didn’t care to explore at the moment, he couldn’t bring himself to tell her. The words were there, stuck to his tongue and making his mouth dry. “I wanted to check on payroll. I didn’t see the completed billing spreadsheets for the clients. I wanted to make sure you didn’t need any help.” The excuse came out lamely in place of the truth. 

“Oh! Well I sent them over an hour ago. Everything should be in order. How did your meeting with my dad go? Did he have a good time in Hawaii?” 

Charles found his own smile answering her easy one, and he relaxed against the small table he’d purchased for her office. “I’m sure you’d know better than I would. The meeting was...productive. Your father is not likely to share personal anecdotes with me, however.”

Her grin amped up a few watts and his body wanted to surge towards her. “I suppose that’s true! He’s such a grump when it comes to you. I’m so sorry about him.” 

“No sense in apologizing for him, Samara. He’s not sorry for it, and we still manage to work together.” Charles cleared his throat and straightened. “I’ll let you return to your tasks.”  _ Coward,  _ he berated himself, as he walked back to his own office and tried to put the image of her clad in a skirt suit out of his mind so he could concentrate.

…

_ Tuesday _

“Good morning, Miss Young. Right on time. You look lovely; that dress is an excellent choice. Well done.” Charles purred at her as she strode into his office for their morning routine, interrupted yesterday due to his meeting with her father. “Are you ready for your exercise?” _ Get hold of yourself, Jones. It’s a dress, not lingerie. _ Evidently, Samara had taken his comments about her wardrobe rather more seriously because she was in another fabulous concoction, a long sleeved black dress that looked like it may be silk. He almost regretted urging her to change her style, just for the discomfort it was causing him.  _ Four weeks,  _ he reminded himself. 

Sam took her stance, falling into it with more grace and confidence than she had when they started this. Day by day her self-esteem flourished. “I love that I have goals and a plan to reach them.”

“That is an excellent thing to love, Miss Young. Many young professionals have no goals, or don’t know how to go about setting them.” She flushed, and the familiar reaction melted more of his control, but reached into his pocket for that ever present token to remind himself to stay back. “For the next couple of days, I have a project for you. I need you to compile a client portfolio for our team. Each client should have a cover sheet with the company, a status of either prospective, in progress, or in support, and the primary contact for that company. After each cover sheet should have all the spec documents. After the spec I’d like you to include a summary sheet of how you think we can improve the service for that client. We have eleven clients in support right now, two in production and three prospective, including Indigineer. Do you think you can have that done for me Thursday morning?”

“That shouldn’t be a problem, Charles. I’ve worked on most of these projects. I think only three of the support clients predate me.” Sam scribbled some notes down in the notepad she’d taken to carrying with her. “Is there anything else?” She looked up at him through her lashes. 

“N-No. Just your regular duties.”  _ You need to tell her.  _ He still couldn’t make the words come out. He knew the longer he waited the worse it would be but he couldn’t tell her he was leaving yet. She’d been improving so much and he feared giving her any reason to backslide. 

“All right. You know where to find me!” She chirped at him and flitted out of the room. Charles wiped his hand down his face as he gripped the talisman in his pocket tightly enough to leave an impression in his palm.

  
  


…

_ Thursday _

  
  


Charles sat with Samara at the table in her office, reviewing the profiles she’d created. “This is phenomenal Miss Young. These solutions you’re suggesting are brilliant. Why didn’t you bring these up when you worked on these projects?” Charles suspected he knew the answer but this was an important learning opportunity for his young assistant.

“I-I was only an intern.” Samara’s voice was tiny when she answered. It wrenched at him to hear her go back to that tone. He hadn’t heard it all week. 

“I see. I wish I had seen how little you valued yourself then. Insights like this can’t really be taught. You have a real talent for finding unique solutions. I shouldn’t be surprised, given that you created Ruminate almost single handedly. In the future, Samara, if you see a solution like this, make sure it’s presented to m— to the team leader at the time.” Charles caught himself. He wouldn’t be her manager for much longer and they both needed to be prepared for the eventuality.  _ Which means... it's time to be a man, Jones.  _ “Miss Y—Samara. May I take you to dinner tonight? I have some things to share with you, one friend to another. Please?” He reached out and took her hand and squeezed it. 

“A-Alright, Charles. I can d-do dinner.” Her face was glowing with a familiar blush, and he found himself comforted by it. “Nothing fancy this time, please." she flashed a small playful grin, "If we could go back to the pu—” Samara’s voice trailed off as her attention was caught by something on her computer. She studied it intently, her face growing pale as it fell with every second that passed while her hand was going cold and clammy in his. “Ch-Charles…” Her voice came out in a choked whisper, her eyes filling with tears.

“What is it, Samara? Are you alright?” Charles was out of his seat and around the table in an instant, and he saw it.

_ To: Young Technologies Global _

_ Subject: Congratulations Charles Jones _

_ The Young Technologies team would like to congratulate Charles Jones on his new position as VP of Operations at Ellesmere in London, UK. Charles has been a General Manager in Development while Young Technologies has experienced a period of unprecedented growth. Charles has been instrumental in expanding our business and client list.  _

_ In his new position, Charles will have the opportunity to expand his repertoire as a manager and logistics expert. Thank you for your dedicated service, Charles. Good luck in your new position!  _

_ Taking his place as General Manager will be Umed Patel, currently Lead Developer on Charles team. We hope you’ll take this time to congratulate both of them on their new journeys. _

_ Well done Charles and Umed. Good luck! _

_ Sincerely, _

_ Young Technologies Human Resources _

  
  
  


Charles felt a chill deep in his bones. He was too late, and now she was going to think he had been hiding it from her. He went to one knee beside her and gripped her tiny hand in his. “Samara…” He began but he couldn’t find the words for her.

“You’re leaving?” The words dropped like a stone between them. “This is why I needed to do the profile documents. They’re for Umed. He probably didn’t need them. He knows these projects as well as I do.” Sam’s voice came out almost robotically and he rubbed a circle on her palm with his thumb, and tried to catch her eye with his. 

“Samara,” he whispered, “this is what I wanted to tell you at dinner tonight. It’s an incredible opportunity. I couldn’t pass it up. I know it means a lot of changes for you but I have every bit of confidence in you.”

“How long?” Sam’s question was vague and sudden.

“Wh-What?” Charles was flustered.

“How long, Charles? How long have you known you were leaving? How long have you been keeping this from me? Is this why you…” She looked into his eyes and swallowed, realization dawning over her soft face, “Is this why you sent me away? Why you’ve put so much distance between us this week? Why I’m suddenly ‘Miss Young’ again most of the time?”

Charles closed his eyes against the sight of the tears flooding her eyes but he couldn’t escape the pain in her voice. Her painful tone his cage where she poked and prodded to ensure he felt every stab...and she was aiming at his chest each time. And with each time, she successfully aimed. "Did you think I wouldn't notice? Did you think I wouldn't be able to tell something was off about you?"

“I got the offer that night, Samara. Right before I found you drunk. I didn’t decide to take it until...later.” He opened his eyes again and looked into the big brown pools of anguish staring back at him, and an answering pain pierced his heart. He watched his beautiful Bunty shrink back in on herself and  _ knew _ he’d caused this. “This isn’t about you, Samara, it’s just business.”

“Charles, I think we both know that’s a lie. I know I’m naive but I’m not stupid. I don't appreciate you treating me like a child. I’m sorry I’ve caused you enough trouble that you feel the need to go to London to get away from here. I...I don’t think I can do dinner, after all. I need to get back to work and so do you.” 

Before he could think, Charles gripped her face between his hands and put his forehead to hers. “Bunty, listen. You are a lovely, precious gem, and I’m not worthy to hold you, let alone take what you offered me. _You_ _did not do this_. I am a flawed man and you will be better off without me. I know I made you a promise and I’ve made...arrangements to see it kept. You will achieve your dreams, Bunty.”

“How are you going to keep your promise from London, Charles? That doesn’t make any sense. You said you were my friend, and that  _ you would teach me. _ How are you going to do that an ocean away?” Her words tore at him, opening a wound he thought long since scarred over. He saw her delicate fingers cover her mouth and her eyes widen in horror. “Oh no, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I know you’re my friend. I’m just shocked and hurt.”

“Yes, Bunty, I  _ am  _ your friend, and I will be so forever. I wouldn’t give your friendship away for any career or amount of money. I just can’t take the rest of what you offered me, and I fear that if I stay here, I’ll do something we both regret. Something that might make you end our friendship. Ellesmere is a good opportunity for my career, and you’ll get more opportunities to grow without this weight hanging between us. I might not be here much longer, but I am making certain my promise is kept to you. It just has to change a little. Please understand, Samara.”

Samara swallowed hard and he saw a forced smile take her face. “I’m so sorry, Charles. Y-You're right. I am proud of you. You earned this opportunity and I am here being a terrible and ungrateful friend. You’re going to do a-amazing things in—” He cut her off with a fierce kiss. 

Unlike the first kiss, this was a wild dance of lips and tongue, and he poured every ounce of frustration and longing into it. His mind was in a fog and the only thing that existed was her as he caressed her tongue with his and buried his hands in her hair. She gripped the front of his shirt and pulled him closer, groaning into his mouth.

He kissed across her delicate jaw and buried his nose in her neck, clutching her close and raking the tender skin with his teeth. “Charles…” She moaned and it snapped him out of the haze of her intoxicating presence. He jumped back like he was burned, his chest heaving.

“I-I am  _ so _ sorry. I should not have done that!” Charles raked his fingers through his hair, appalled at his loss of control. She looked up at him, rumpled and dazed and he felt that control straining again. “I need to go. Samara, I—” He shook his head, stumblethaed and fled out of her office. He was fairly certain he heard a small sob just before the door clicked shut behind him.  _ Fuck me, I’m a fool. _

Angry with himself, bitter and longing, Charles settled behind his desk and realized he left the profile sheets for Umed in her office. He raged internally.  _ Fuck! _

  
  


_ … _

_ More than a year later - _

_ Charles woke up drenched in sweat, his whole body shivering with fever. He reached for his phone, his vision a haze and punched at the screen. He could barely make out the names as he scrolled through the pink phone he still kept after all this time, and pressed the call button. “Samara...please forgive me.” He slurred when he heard her voice on the other end. “Ch-Charles? It’s three in the morning. I know in London it’s much later but this is a strange time for you to—” _

_ “Please forgive me, Bunty. I’m so sorry.” He was fading but he needed her to forgive him. That was the only thought he could hold on to. “Charles, what’s wrong? You don’t sound right? You're making me worry. Can I get someone to come to you? I don’t know the emergency numbers in London.” _

_ “California...I’m..in California. I’m sorry, Bunty.” His voice trailed off as he passed back out, his breath rattling with the infection in his lungs. _

_ “CHARLES!” He heard her scream as everything faded back to black. _

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	3. 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut IMMINENT. This is your warning

And we continue

_ Sam pulled the phone away from her ear and stared at it when she heard it click dead. She hadn’t heard that fluid voice anywhere but her dreams in over a year, but obviously something was wrong with him. She thumbed her contacts open and called her father.  _

_ “Dad, I just got a strange phone call. What do you know about Charles being in California?”  _

_ …. “Dad settle down. I think he might be hurt or sick, that’s all. Is he here? They’re opening a new branch...I see. Well can you call their CEO and find out where he is? I think he might be in danger. I have his phone number if we need it….okay. Call me back.” _

_ Sam cut off the call and immediately tried calling back the unfamiliar UK number that had dialed her before...and got no answer. _

_ She got out of bed and rushed to get dressed, doing her best to keep calm while her heart raced at an ungodly speed. When the next call came she was going to be ready. _

  
  


…

_ Back in time...three weeks later _

_ Friday _

  
  


“Well, Umed, I hope you enjoy the office.” Charles leaned against his former desk watching the new General Manager moving into the office that was his own until this moment.

“Oh, I will. So you’re flying out tonight?” Umed leaned back in the executive chair, propping his foot on the desk.

“Tomorrow, early. I’ll be staying at a hotel near the airport tonight. My things have been shipped to my new flat ahead of me. I’m living out of a suitcase for a few days, I’m afraid.” Charles smiled wryly, taking a surreptitious glance through the open door.

“She’s with Lucy.” Umed smirked at him, an eyebrow raised knowingly.

Charles debated offering a denial but instead he sighed. “She’s still angry with me.”

“No she isn’t, Towhead. She’s going to miss you. She cares about people, and you mean a lot to her. Not a lot of people would have done what you have for her. She’s grown so much in the last month and a half she’s almost a new person. Now her champion is leaving for greener pastures and she’s a little bit lost. Sam would never begrudge you this opportunity, though.” Umed looked at the clock. “She’s trying to get used to dealing with things on her own again.”

“She shouldn’t have to,” Charles muttered harshly.

Umed laughed loudly, “Of course she doesn’t have to, Idiot. She could go to her family or her friends. They’d do anything for her. She chooses not to rely on them. You, she asked for help. That should tell you something. Don’t fuck it up,” Umed added quietly. 

Charles stared him down for a second with a forbidding glower on his face, but gave up quickly with a huge sigh. “Well I recommended the correct replacement. You are far too observant. There’s nothing to, as you say, ‘Fuck up’. I’m leaving tomorrow, you recall.”

Umed raised a skeptical eyebrow and replied with a lazy, “Ummhm.” Charles scowled at him, and Umed just looked more amused. “Don’t worry, Charles. Other than possibly Lucy, no one else has noticed. I’m actually kind of surprised, considering the pheromones pouring off the two of you any time you’re within ten feet of each other.”

Charles cleared his throat loudly, and changed the subject. “Let’s go over the Indigineer proposal. I presented it to them Tuesday, and they are very interested in Miss Young’s solution. They have requested a second meeting to go over quotes and budgeting. I’d suggest that Miss Young take the lead in the meeting if she feels comfortable with it. I think since it largely relates to numbers and minute details, she should probably be alright.”

“Yeah, yeah, I got it, Jones. Now get out of my office.” Umed grinned up at him. “We’re supposed to report to the large conference room.”

“Oh fy nuw! Don’t tell me…” Charles pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance.

“Yep, they’re throwing you a party. C’mon, Towhead. Hop to it.”

…

_Sam paced her living room, phone gripped tightly in her hand. When it rang, she let out a squeak of alarm but answered it immediately with a clipped, “Dad, where is he?”_

_ “They called an ambulance and got him to Oliver Medical Center. That’s all I know. Pumpkin, he’s being take—” Samuel’s voice had become wheedling. The information he gave was all she needed to know. _

_ “Don’t start, Dad. I’m going to the hospital to find out more. I’m ordering a car now.” Sam thumbed the ridesharing app open and requested the fastest available car, a bag with her meds and her laptop already at her side. She heard a pleading tone coming from the receiver. “Dad, don’t start with me. I don’t even need to hear your words to know you’re trying to talk me out of taking care of my friend. I’m ashamed. You taught me better than that.” With that parting shot she disconnected the call, leaned down and scratched Bowser behind the ear before grabbing her bag and rushing out of the door. Her heart was hammering in her chest. The anxiety of seeing Charles again after all this time was swallowed by fear for his life.  _

_ “He’s going to get better,” she told herself, “then I’m going to give him a piece of mind. The nurses better be on standby when I do.” _

…

Charles leaned against the conference room wall with a glass of champagne in his hand and observed the room. The inevitable cake was mostly gone, the catered food picked over. Stragglers lingered, laughing with each other quietly in pockets. It was near closing time and the janitorial staff was darting here and there, cleaning up the aftermath. 

She’d disappeared more than an hour ago, but he knew she was in her office. He’d trailed behind her quietly and watched her disappear through her doorway.

As he thought about her, his body seemed to move of its own accord, lifting away from the wall and stealing on silent feet through the hall to the executive spaces. He paused outside her door, briefly before opening it quietly and stopping to gaze at her. 

She was chewing on that infernal thumb again. He already felt his gut tightening but he had a mission. “Samara…” He intoned it softly, an unintended warmth suffusing the single word.

She jumped, a bit of a timid mouse she’d been when he found her showing through. She shook it off rather quickly though. “Charles! Good I was about to come find you. Time to go soon, isn’t it?” She pulled the cardigan she’d worn all day more tightly around her. He frowned at it. She hadn’t worn one of the sweaters they’d had so many discussions about since...well in some weeks. To the rest of the world, it was simply a sweater, but Charles knew better. He wondered why she needed a shield after weeks without it. 

“Are you cold, or feeling nervous?” He winced at the blunt tone he used but still studied her face, watching for her tells.

She swallowed and pointed to one of the chairs near the small table in the middle of the room. “Sit. I’m a bit of both. I..I got you a gift. It’s not large so I hope you have room in your luggage for it.” She pulled a wide, flat case out of her desk and marched stiffly to stand near him, worrying the blue leather in her hands. She set it on the table and shrugged out of her cardigan. That’s when Charles forgot how to breathe.

She wore black silk that fit her like a dream. The sheath dress was cut modestly, grazing across her collar bones and down to just above her knees but...it fit her to perfection and cupped her body gracefully, enticing him to touch, to feel the soft silk sliding over the warm skin beneath. Her arms were bare, long and graceful. A simple strand of pearls clung to her throat matching mother-of-pearl butterfly clip holding her sleek chignon in place. The effect was breathtaking. He slammed his back into the chair, stunned. “You look lovely…” Charles' voice was breathy, and his eyes felt misty.

“Th-Thank you. The dress is new.” She murmured it softly before sitting delicately in the chair nearest him and crossing her ankles to perch primly. Charles tugged at the knot of his tie, trying to find his air.

She flipped the textured blue leather case open and turned the gift toward him, and his heart clenched painfully. Nestled inside fitted velvet recesses lay a beautifully hand-turned executive pen, stained a brilliant cherry and polished to gleaming, along with a line of refilling cartridges. He studied it and noticed that burned into the haft was a tiny quill, in intricate and minute detail. He smiled at it and moved his gaze to the prize beside it. A long, delicately feathered red quill lay beside it, tipped with gold. The familiar symbol brought a soft smile to his face. 

“It’s ostentatious, I know. I thought you’d like something for your new desk in London. Something useful but...I hoped it would remind you of what we’ve been through together, and that you’d always have a friend here. The quill is decorative, it takes cartridges as well.” Samara rambled at him. 

“Samara...it’s perfect. I’m honored. You must have spent a great deal of time and effort putting this together...I have something for you as well I—” She cut him off with a gentle stroke of her hand on his jaw, the graze of her fingers sending shivers down his spine.

“Can you give it to me later? I’d like it if you would drive me home tonight. I don’t want to ride the bus in this dress. Would that be okay?” She gazed at him pleadingly, hand lighted on his chest where it had come to rest.

Absently, he reached up and covered her tiny hand with his large one, swallowed and nodded. He still found himself unable to say “No” to her.

  
  


…

_ Sam marched up to the desk at the ICU and asked for Charles’ room. “Are you family, ma’am.”  _

_ “No, Charles is from the UK. He doesn’t have family locally. I’m a friend of his. He called me for help.” The nurse looked at her in sympathy. “I know what the rules are. I just want to be here to help. Do you have somewhere I can wait? And any updates?” _

_ “I’ll get the doctor for you, ma’am. If he doesn’t have family coming we can see about making an exception. It’s just you?” Sam nodded. “Okay then. Wait here in the lobby. The doctor will be out shortly.” Sam sat in the nearest free seat, perching on the edge and hugging her bag to chest for comfort. After an interminable wait, the doctor came through the partitioning door, “Miss Young?” She nodded and hopped up to follow him.  _

_ “Miss Young, Mr Jones is suffering from complications from bacterial pneumonia. The fluid in his lungs is quite extensive and he’s badly dehydrated and malnourished. The fever was dangerously high. He’s in stable condition now and once we’ve dealt with the complications and gotten the infection under control, we’ll be able to move him to a regular room. He’ll probably be hospitalized for at least a week and will require continuing care for up to a month. You’re his friend?” _

_ “Y-Yes. Charles is here on business from London. I’m not sure exactly when he arrived but he was found in a hotel room. He’s meant to be scouting office locations for a new branch.” _

_ “I see. Well he’s not going to be able to do that for a while, but he will live if no further complications pop up. It was very close. If someone hadn’t found him soon, his organs would have begun to shut down. He’s very lucky. He’s not contagious so I’ll see you into his room. No cell phone use, if you please.” _

_ The doctor opened the door and ushered her inside the darkened room where Charles lay swallowed by equipment on the bed. She’d never seen her friend look so small. So used to seeing the man stand tall with an ever present posture, a distant memory of him greeting her with that damn crooked smile. Tears started flowing down her face, “You idiot.” She cursed him before settling into the chair beside his bed and taking his hand. Even in his weakened state, he enveloped her. Her hand swimming in his large one as she brought it up to her head, giving him a frustrated bunt. _

  
  
  


…

  
  


Charles followed Samara into her apartment and felt the quiet swallow him when the door clicked closed behind him. 

She looked back at him and smiled softly, and his heart stuttered. “Please, have a seat. Can I get you something to drink? I have tea.”

“That’s quite alright, Samara. You don’t need to get me anything.” He lowered himself to her couch, stretching his legs out in front of him and sighed softly. “It feels strange knowing I won’t be back at the office as an employee again.”

She looked at him silently for a few slow heartbeats and added in a very soft voice, “And you’re not my boss any longer. I’m not your boss’ daughter.” Her eyes stayed trained on his face but the color rose from her throat up to her face. He couldn’t help the familiar smirk that grew on his face.

“No. Now you’re just my friend, and I’m very glad for it. Come here, I have a gift for you.” He patted the spot beside him and reached down into his bag. Inside was a velvet box just a bit larger than his hand, and he felt his palms start to sweat. Head tilted curiously, she settled in beside him. “Well, Bunty, I’m glad to see you like pearls, because I found something I thought would suit you. I hope it will serve as a reminder not to forget to use your horns.” He snapped the lid open and heard her gasp loudly.

Inside was an exquisitely wrought bracelet of teardrop pearls and gold beads. Worked in miniature, dangling from the center of the work was a tiny carved sheep, horns and all. The little gold figure gleamed in the soft light and she reached out to stroke it with one finger. “Charles this is beautiful, and so sweet. Thank you!” She suddenly lunged and wrapped her arms around his waist in a tight hug. “Thank you so much,” she mumbled into his chest. Setting the box aside he stroked her hair, returning the embrace gently.

“I’m glad you like it, Bunty.” He said warmly, setting her back and closing up his bag. “I should probably be going soon. I have an early flight, after all.”

“W-Wait. I...Will you s-stay? I-I mean...I  _ want _ y-you to stay.” Samara clung to his hand. 

Charles sighed, “Samara, we’ve discussed this and—”

“No, we didn't.” Her voice was stern and Charles' glacier eyes nowhere near as cold as her tone. “You spoke and I listened. I told you what I wanted and you made it sound as if I didn’t know my own mind. I...know that night wasn’t good. I didn’t mean to drink, and wouldn’t have chosen to if I’d known there was alcohol in that drink. I just wanted a coffee. I don’t blame you for rejecting me then.” She squared herself to him staring into his eyes boldly, “But I’ve been watching these last few weeks. I don’t believe I’m wrong when I say I think you want me as much as I want you.”

Charles started to say something about half a dozen times, each time stopping and letting out a soft, frustrated breath. Finally, he gritted out, “Of course I want you. You’re stunning, sweet, caring, kind, soft, luscious...absolutely beautiful and it’s been all I could do to be a gentleman and  _ keep my hands off of you! _ Taking what you’re offering wouldn’t be right.” He sounded miserable.

“Why?” She asked it simply but he couldn’t seem to form an answer. “I’m not a little girl, I’m a woman. Just because I haven’t practiced, it doesn’t mean I don’t know what I want. I want you. I trust you, I  _ care _ about you. I’m not close to anyone else that I find attractive and that finds  _ me _ attractive.”

“I’m leaving in the morning, Samara.” He whispered it, tears forming in his eyes. 

“Believe me, I know. I don’t have any illusions about what this is, but I want you, Charles. I still want to know what you feel like. You’re the first man to make me feel like a woman. You gave me my first kiss. Do you really want someone else, some stranger, to have the rest of my firsts when I want to give them to you?”

Charles rocked back, stunned. “That was your first kiss?” The question came out sounding strangled, “Wha-why didn’t you tell me?” 

Samara tilted her head in puzzlement, “I didn’t think I needed to. I thought it was pretty obvious that no one had ever found me desirable, and I told you what happened with Link. I haven’t been physically attracted to many people in my life, and the very few I’ve been brave enough to approach rejected me almost out of hand. It’s not something that’s sparked easily in me. But when you’re in my space, when you touch me, I feel warm and languid. You make me feel safe. I understand if you don’t feel the same way. If you do, though, I’m  _ begging _ you not to leave...”

Charles’ eyes burned at her and he reached out and plucked the butterfly clip from her hair, shaking the updo loose with his fingers and stroking the strands gently. “Bunty…” he began before kissing her roughly, a fast, closed mouth press of lips that made her gasp with surprise. “You are very convincing, Miss Young. I need you to tell me exactly what you want. I don’t want any further misunderstanding between us if this is going to be our only night together.”

She leaned into his hand and kissed it, eyes boring into him. He couldn’t will himself to breathe as he watched the desire blooming in her eyes. His Bunty, gazing up at him, equal parts earnest and newly confident. “Charles, I want you to take me to my bedroom and help me explore my body. I want to make love with you at least once. I want you to show me...but I also want to know what  _ you _ want, too.” She didn’t stutter; not even a single hiccup. He stood up, then and pulled her to her feet, but only stared down at her with a soft look on his face.

"Ch-Charles? Are you going to run?” She asked nervously, the stutter returning and revealing the extent she’d overtaxed her confidence. He closed the distance, and captured her mouth in a soft, exploring kiss and enfolding her into his arms until her breath came in gasps. He lifted her suddenly, wrapping her legs around his waist and strode with her into her bedroom, “No, Bunty, I’m not running. Far from it.”

He kicked her bedroom door closed gently, and in a few brief strides he spilled them both onto her bed, trapping her head between his strong arms. “Samara,” he breathed before capturing her mouth again. 

He tried to keep his kisses gentle, stroking her hair and the side of her neck with his long fingers, easing her into his touch, but she was having none of it. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down into her, deepening their kiss and arching her hips into his. He broke off with a gasp, “Patience, Bunty, no need to rush,” he rasped into her ear and punctuated it with a gentle nip of his teeth into the soft spot beneath the delicate shell.

Sam groaned and clung to him, burying her head in his chest as she mumbled, “I feel so hot, and frantic. I need…” She trailed off and tipped her head back, eyes pleading for something she had no words for. “Please?” She whispered the word, hoping that he could understand better than she could. 

He smiled down at her, wicked understanding lighting his eyes. He lifted her hand to his mouth and nipped the pad of her finger before drawing it into his mouth, gently sucking on it. He sat back on his heels, drawing her up with him, and asked, “Do you trust me, Samara?”

She swallowed and nodded, and Charles’ grin grew wider and his eyes almost smoked with heat. He sat at the edge of her bed, kicking his shoes off while he pulled her into his lap. He pulled her back flush to his chest and kissed down her neck, one hand firmly pressed to her belly so she couldn’t slide away. “I want to make you come while I hold you, Samara,” he purred into her ear, palming her breast and nipping her earlobe when she squeaked at the declaration. “Don’t worry about anything but what you feel. I’ve got you.” He tugged her tighter against him to demonstrate.

He felt her relax against his chest and murmured encouraging nonsense into her neck, using the hand on her belly to slowly ruck her dress up while plying her with the other one. He kneaded her breast gently, catching her nipple between his fingers through the slick silk of her dress and the rough lace of her bra when he felt it pebble. He kept dropping soft kisses and nibbling along her neck, wanting to keep her feeling instead of thinking. 

Sam felt heat pooling in her belly as Charles’ coaxing caresses made her want to beg for...something. Her hips kept jerking up involuntarily but he held her firmly against him, using her squirms to insinuate his legs between hers. She felt him push her legs open with his knees and she tried to jerk them closed on instinct. She shivered when she heard him chuckle evilly in her ear. “Open for me, Love,” he crooned at her, sliding his right hand up from her knee under the short fringe of dress that still offered her a little modesty. When she felt the heat of his big hand brush the cotton of her panties she arched, trying to get closer. He started tracing lazy circles over her mound through the cloth, making her squirm against him. She heard a sharp intake of breath near her ear and looked back at him, eyes heated and questioning. 

He smiled with a sultry, languid spread of lips and pressed his erection up against her, “You’re not the only one being effected, Samara. Having you wriggle in my lap is very exciting.” He pressed his fingers firmly against her heat, causing her to shiver and a loud groan to eject into the cool night. When he took his fingers away, she almost sobbed with protest until he brought them up to her mouth, and slid them against her lips, coaxing them open for him. 

He slid two fingers into her mouth, pressing her tongue and keeping her eyes captured with his while he pumped them gently. A spurt of boldness prompted her to close her lips and suck them while she watched in triumph as his eyes closed and a look of pained bliss crossed his face and she felt him grind up into her ass with a slight moan. “Minx,” he chided, removing his hand from her mouth and sliding his wet fingers under her panties to press against bare, hot flesh. He caught the surprised squeak she let out with a deep, searing kiss while he worked her damp flesh, slowly sliding the tips of his fingers inside her while pressing the swollen bud of her clitoris with his thumb, working her open for him. She was moving rhythmically now, arching into every soft press of thumb and thrust of fingers until she was panting and he’d seated his fingers fully inside her. 

“You’re squeezing already,” he hummed with a satisfied smirk, thrusting his hand against her a little harder and using his palm to press into her, maintaining a steady pressure, letting her ride him, easing into the pace she wanted. She felt her heat rising and an unbearable tension built in her belly and legs. “Please.” She whimpered, writhing into him frantically. “That’s right, Bunty, give it to me,” he commanded firmly, thrusting his hand into her hard and she shattered with a sharp cry, shuddering against him while he held her tight. 

He soothed her with soft kisses while she came down from her orgasm, and when she moved again he asked, “Do you need your inhaler?” He caressed her face with a smile. Smiling back shyly, she shook her head. “No. I’m just a little dazed. That felt...I don’t have words for it.”

He grinned wider and raised her hand to his mouth, kissing her palm and pressing it against his cheek, “If you want to stop there, I will treasure the feeling of you coming apart in my arms forever.”

She scowled at him, “Trying to get away from me, again, Jones?” She raised a challenging eyebrow at him and he tipped his head back, laughing.

“No, Bunty. Just trying to be a gentleman. I’m very pleased to be here.” He arched his hips into her backside again to illustrate the point. She felt her dress gape open and start to fall and she caught it, “May I see you?” Charles whispered into her ear, and she dropped her arms, letting the top of the dress fall to her waist. 

“Only if I get to see you,” Sam challenged him, rising to her feet and letting the dress fall to the floor at her feet. She saw him swallow visibly, raking her body with his eyes.

His mouth was dry as he looked her over, this petite woman who made his chest burst with the need to touch, taste and take. Icy blue cotton and lace cupped those beautiful breasts he wanted to bite and barely covered the mound of pleasure he’d just been caressing. He leaned back on his elbows, trying to find his breath as she stalked toward him. She planted her hand on the bed, leaning over him and firmly tugged his tie, kissing him with untutored ardor as she removed the silk from his neck. She braced her hands on his shoulders, deepening their kiss, sliding her tongue into his mouth and he groaned loudly, swiftly picking her up and flipping her onto the bed, pinning her down and devouring her mouth with abandon.

Slanting his mouth over hers in unbridled passion, he shucked his shirt, popping a couple buttons in his need to feel her skin on his. He pushed both her hands above her head, capturing them with his engulfing grip and used his other hand to cup, knead and press her breast up to meet his mouth, scraping her skin with his teeth. Her whimpers drove him on, urging him to lift her breast out of her bra and capture the nipple in his teeth and drive his knee between her legs until she gasped his name out. “Can you take more, Samara?” He taunted with a menacing growl, “I’m going to make you come again. I’m going to taste you and make you scream, and then I’ll have you,” promise, or threat, in his stern voice, “ You’re driving me wild, Love.” He slid his tongue down the flat plane of her belly causing the muscles to jump for him. He looked up at her expectantly, “Well?”

She gulped but nodded, that lovely blush that made him  _ want _ rising up her cheeks again and he growled into her hip, “Good,” and released her hands, sliding down her body and tugging the scrap of cotton that covered her down her legs, and unbuckling her shoes and casting them all aside impatiently. He paused for a moment and reached under her, snapping open the bra as well and tossing it behind him. His eyes glowed as he drank her in, seeing her fully nude for the first time. She tried to look away, embarrassment coloring her face and neck but he caught her chin and kissed her with a deep and reverent affection, “You are beautiful, Samara. Stunning.”

He kissed her gently, soothing her with his lips until her eyes fell closed again and he felt her body slacken beneath him. He nipped, licked and kissed his way back down her body, stopping to lave her gorgeous breasts with affection, nibbling her nipples taut and gentling them with his tongue until she cried out and squirmed beneath him. Every time she breathed his name and arched into him it fueled him further, making him mad for her. 

He settled himself between her supple thighs, pulling her leg over his shoulder and opening her for him. She was visibly wet and he could smell her arousal this close. He bit gently into her thigh, groaning with the need for her but wanting to hear her peak once more before his control abandoned him.

He watched her face as he slid his tongue between her folds, fluttering gently, mindful that she may still be sensitive from her first orgasm. When he felt her heel digging into her back and her hips arched into his mouth he thought, “Fuck it,” and closed his mouth over her mound, sucking softly and flattening his tongue against the swollen bud at the top of her sex. The taste of her arousal burst on his tongue and he growled into her, setting her to squirming into him. 

Her cries echoed around him as he worked her with his tongue and lips, and every so often, gentle nips of teeth that shocked her and made her search for him with her hips. He watched her body flush, her hands digging into the bedding around her until her whole body thrummed and she hovered on the edge, then he drove his fingers inside her again while he sucked her clitoris into his mouth and worked her with his tongue. She squeezed his fingers hard, calling his name in a guttural moan as her climax took her again. He reached into the nightstand and grabbed her inhaler, holding it up to her and helping her to take two deep puffs, soothing her with gentle circles at her back. 

“Alright there, Bunty?” he asked with smug satisfaction. She nodded, still shaking and rested her head against his bare chest, small whimpers still escaping her lips. He kissed the crown of her head and murmured. “I’m not done with you.” He guided her hand down his chest and bare, tight belly to feel the straining bulge beneath his trousers. “You don’t happen to have protection, do you? I’m afraid I wasn’t prepared for this lovely surprise you had for me.”

“I-In the nightstand. I asked a friend what I would need.” She admitted shyly, peeking up at him from behind the fringe of her hair. 

“Did you, now? I admire your foresight, Samara, and I’m grateful for it.” He grinned at her and reached into the nightstand, pulling a foil packet out and setting it on the bed beside them. He rose then, unbuckling his belt and shucking his trousers down his legs, leaving him standing there in boxer-briefs that strained to keep him contained. He watched her take him in, heat rising in her eyes again and sighed with relief that she still wanted him.

She scooted to the edge of the bed and reached out, hooking her fingers in the waistband of his briefs. She tugged him closer, one hand sliding up his belly, exploring his chest and watching the gooseflesh rise where her gentle fingers flowed. The other one slid down, caressing his muscled thigh and pausing, just a beat, before closing over the hard length concealed by cloth. He jumped, a startled grunt escaping his throat before he closed his fingers over hers. “Samara,” he whispered hoarsely. 

“Will you show me how to touch you?” She asked gently, flexing her fingers and feeling him leap in her hand, marvelling at how rigid and large he seemed to be.

“Later!” it came out strangled, “I promise, you can touch me as much as you want to later. If you do it now, I’ll come all over your hand like a schoolboy. Please.” He pleaded with her, obviously straining to stay in control and she smiled at him. 

“Alright, Charles. I can wait.” She laid a sweet, promising kiss on the ridge protruding from his briefs and lights exploded behind his eyes. He pushed her back on the bed, shedding his last layer of clothing and snatching the foil pack from the bed, fire in his eyes. 

She watched him as he rolled the sheath over his length, eyes wide. She glanced up to find him smiling at her a little smugly, and Sam cleared her throat, “H-hm. Um I didn’t expect you to be so...intimidating.” She glanced back down at him and he chuckled.

“Flattery will get you everywhere, Samara.” He loomed over her, pulling her up the bed to rest on the pillows and kissing her gently, taking another pillow and lifting her hips, propping her on the cushion and hooking one leg around his hips. She felt the hard heat of him slide against her and moaned into his mouth. 

Despite his impatience to have her, he reveled in the feel of her, plumping her breasts in his hands and sliding the length of himself against her heated flesh until he heard her gasping for him and she broke their kiss to bury her face into his shoulder with a moan. Only then did he press forward, sinking into her a bare inch, gritting his teeth against the urge to take her in one swift thrust. 

She started dropping soft kisses against his muscled chest and he almost broke then, his arms quivering while he eased in and out of her, taking a little more of her each time. Finally, finally he was seated inside her fully and he held her to him, murmuring into her ear, “Does it hurt, Love?” 

She gazed up at him with a smile and shook her head, arching her back into him encouragingly and his control shattered. He drew back and slid into her with a smooth, firm stroke and heard her cries echo his. He slid his fingers into hers, holding her hands clasped beside her head as he felt her legs wrap around his waist and he let himself go, powering into her with abandon, kissing her deeply as he felt her fall apart around him, squeezing his length with ripples of pleasure until he came with a shout, falling beside her and gathering her into his chest with a deeply satisfied shudder. 

“S-Samara,” he huffed, barely able to form the words, “are you alright?”

“Mmhmmm,” she mumbled dreamily, snuggling into him. He smiled and stroked her back in long lazy strokes, kissing the top of her head, still amazed that she was in his arms like this. 

“Don’t sleep yet, Bunty. We’re not done.” He muttered dangerously. Her eyes flew open in surprise. 

“Don’t you have a flight in the morning?” She mumbled drunkenly and raised a tired eyebrow when he chuckled.

“Samara, it’s an eleven hour flight. I can sleep on the plane,” he rumbled before kissing her. 

…

_ A sudden croaking noise shook Sam out of the nap she’d been apparently taking in the chair. “S-Samara? Is that really you?” Charles’ voice sounded harsh and breathy.  _

_ “Yes, Charles. You called me. Do you remember?” He shook his head at her and groaned from pain at the effort. “Don’t try to move. You’re at Oliver Medical Center. You’re terribly sick. Just rest, I’ll be here.” He drifted back to sleep, clutching her hand tighter in his.  _

_ Sam’s eyes misted up, her emotions roiling inside her. "Dummy," she whispered while pushing away his fringe that hid away his face. _

…

Charles watched her while she slept, her dewy skin glowing in the moonlight, and played with her soft hair. A sigh escaped her and she rolled into him, searching for warmth. He smiled at her, enjoying the last moments he had to hold this warm, wonderful woman in his arms.

He sighed sadly then and extricated himself, settling the blanket over her bare skin and dressed in silence. He gathered his things and set them by the door, tucking her gift into his bag safely and returned to her bedside. He crouched by the bed and just gazed at her face, sweetly lost in slumber. Finally, he kissed her forehead gently and whispered, “Be well, Samara, and thank you for everything.” 

Charles strode out into the small hours before dawn, hand tucking into his pocket automatically, and instead of finding his wedding ring, which he’d packed that morning, he pulled out a mother-of-pearl butterfly. He thought about returning it upstairs but slowly returned it to his pocket instead, his fingers wrapping around it loosely while he walked away.


	4. 4

Approximately a year later - 

Charles' eyes fluttered open, his hands trying to move the weight off of his chest. His hand closed around a soft tube and he jerked fully awake, taking in the sterile room and the soft beeping of the hospital equipment surrounding him and thudding back into his pillow. He was puzzling out how he got here when the door whispered open.  _ Good I can ask a- _

Every thought he’d had queueing up flew out of his head.  _ She was here. _

“You’re awake! That’s great news! Let me get the nurse.” Her hair, longer than he remembered it, flew behind her as she hurried back through the door to the nurse’s station. Some of the beeping beside him grew faster as his heart hammered in his chest. This was  _ not  _ how he wanted their reunion to proceed. 

The nurse came in and fussed, Samara standing behind her with a worried look swimming in those big brown eyes. He would have believed he was dreaming, but for the pain of the shifting IV lines in his skin and the sandpaper of his tongue. He had never been so grateful to suck on ice-chips in his life. “Mr. Jones, you gave your lady friend here a scare. She’s been sitting nearly nonstop for a week. I had to talk her into going home for some food and a shower yesterday.” Samara looked away from him, a flush crawling up her lovely throat that was so achingly familiar that he had to smile. 

“She’s a very loyal friend.” He rasped out, barely able to force the air from his lungs. Talking was an effort and he slumped against his pillow.

“Now, you just rest, Mr. Jones. You’ve been through an ordeal. You need to let yourself heal now.” The plump, older woman fluffed his pillow and pulled the thin hospital blanket over him. She stopped to make a few notes on the chart at the end of the bed and suddenly, he was alone with Samara.

He tried to make his tongue work but all he could do is stare at her. The silence stretched between them, thick and aching. There was so much he needed to say, so much to make up for but the words he could conjure weren’t enough. He decided on a different track, instead asking in the bare whisper he could manage, “How...how did I get here? Can you fill in the blanks? The last thing I remember I was climbing into bed, feeling somewhat poorly after a building tour. There was a ceiling tile...kind of mouldy I think…” He gasped in a ragged breath, just the few sentences leaving him heaving.

She stepped up to the bed and closed her hand over his and his blood sang from the soft contact. “Hush, Charles. Stop trying to make yourself talk. I don’t know everything, but you called me a little over a week ago. At first I thought you were drunk...you kept trying to apologize to me. I could tell something was wrong. The last thing you said was “I’m in California,” before the line went dead. I called Dad to find out if he knew anything, and he was able to get your company to tell us where you were staying. No one knows how long you were there but when they found you, Link says your fever was dangerously high and your breath was thready. If someone hadn’t found you soon, you would have died.” He felt her hand squeeze his as her eyes closed against the memory. He longed to reach out and pull her into his arms, kiss away the tears that threatened to fall from her eyes. “You have bronchial pneumonia. They’re treating you with antibiotics and some other things in that IV, and when you get out of the hospital you’re going to stay with me.”

His eyes flew to her face, and he was ready to make a protest, but she beat him to it, “I don’t want to hear any arguments from you, Charles. You could have died. You’re going to need breathing treatments for weeks. You’re going to be weak and you will need help. My apartment is set up for someone with respiratory issues already.” 

It made sense, and he couldn’t argue with her cold logic but… “Bunty, I don’t deserve having you look after me.” He even sounded dejected to his own ears.

“I know you don’t, but that doesn’t matter right now. You need to get better. I’ll fight with you when you can fight back.” She still hadn’t let go of his hand, but she glared down at him with a fierce fire in her eyes; it made him want to step back for fear of being burned. She was definitely angry with him. Rightfully, he could admit to himself.

“Samara, why?” He rasped, needing to know. “Why help me when I’ve been…”

“An ass?” She blazed at him and he winced, but nodded. She sighed at him, plopping into the chair beside the bed, still clinging to his hand. “Just because you stopped being my friend, Charles, doesn’t mean I stopped being yours. I’ll be here until you don’t need me any longer. Now you should rest. I’m going to read some emails on my laptop right here.”

He nodded at her, and whispered, “Thank you, Bunty,” before he settled in and closed his eyes, exhaustion taking him once again.

…

  
  


_ Months before _

_ “So we’re agreed, then?” The imposing man across from Charles asked him, reaching his hand across the huge executive desk.  _

_ “Yes, sir. I appreciate this opportunity. I know the California branch was a long-term goal of yours. I’ll be heading out to scout locations next week. I won’t be able to secure a permanent living arrangement until we have offices, but I’ve pre-booked six weeks at a hotel on the company list. I should be able to keep the costs of this trip fairly low.” _

_ “I’m not worried about that, Jones. Just see to it that you find a good location for us. Now, let’s celebrate with a drink!” _

_ His employer pulled a crystalline bottle of whiskey from the bar behind his desk and poured them each a measure. “Cheers,” the imposing man called, clinking their glasses. _

_ Charles took a swallow of the heady liquor, the burn of it easing its way into the churning pit of his stomach. He hadn’t been sure that he’d be able to secure this opportunity, but when the chance to return to California presented itself, he had thrown all of his considerable energy and resources into being the one to go. Now, as soon as next week he could see her. _

_ Just thinking about her huge brown eyes felt like going home. _

_ Charles walked out of his employer’s office with his hand in his pocket, sliding his finger gently on the wings of a pearl butterfly, hope at war with fear in his heart. _

  
  


_ … _

Several days later, Charles found himself suffering the indignity of being all but carried up the stairs by Samara’s giant wheat-maned friend Link. Samara flitted ahead of them, opening the door into her cozy apartment for them. “Link, I’ve put his things in the bedroom. Meds are on the nightstand. I’ll take Bowser for a walk while you get him settled in. Thank you for your help.”

Charles picked up his hand in a halting gesture, “I will be perfectly comfortable on the couch, Samara. You needn’t go through the trouble of giving up your bed for me.” Talking was still an effort, but at least he could manage his full voice again.

The venomous look she shot him took him aback. “Charles Jones, you can’t manage stairs on your own. You’re taking the bed where you’ll be comfortable and you can recover. Besides the breathing machine and the air filter are in the bedroom. It’s more trouble to move them than you. Bowser and I will sleep fine on the couch.” She gave a haughty sniff and clipped Bowser’s leash on his collar while the tiny dog rolled on his back with an enthusiastic “Ahp!” before they both bounded out the door. Charles was dumbfounded.

Link cleared his throat, shaking Charles out of his stunned state, and helped him into the bedroom. “Listen, man, I know it’s none of my business, and we’re not well acquainted but...she was a wreck when you left last year. It took a while, but my girlfriend was finally able to get her to open up. She...she backslid a lot. She was opening up a lot with the extra help you were giving her at work. After you moved, she all but became a hermit for a couple of months. Then after that she was kind of manic. It was almost like she was grieving.” Link scratched the back of his neck, obviously uncomfortable with this line of conversation, “She’s angry right now, I can tell, but she won’t say anything to you about it until you’re better. Then you might want to duck. Sam’s gotten feisty. I’ve known her for a long time. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her like this. She’s always been very sweet and it takes a lot for her to get angry and actually stay that way.”

Charles slumped against the headboard, the disease and the realization of the damage he caused weighing him down, “I...deserve her anger. I was a poor friend. I tried to speak to her, but you’re right. She refuses to have this conversation until I’m in better health. I’ll take whatever she has to throw at me though.”

Link nodded, “Good. She deserves that much. You should have heard her shout her dad down when he tried to have a tantrum about you staying here.” 

Charles let out a startled laugh that turned into a wracking cough that had Link holding up the steroid inhaler he’d been prescribed at the hospital. A couple of deep puffs, and the knot in Charles’ chest eased enough to rasp out, “I would have paid a lot of money to witness Samara dressing down Mr. Young.” Link’s answering grin was brilliant.

“Oh you have no idea. I feel kind of sorry for you. She’s been hanging out with Monica a lot in the last year. She’s got some sass now.” Charles raised an intrigued eyebrow. “Anyhow, you should rest. Next dose of antibiotics is in three hours. Sam has your med schedule in the kitchen. Let her look after you. She’s good at it.”

Charles nodded at the man, grateful, “I appreciate your help, Mr. Hudson. I’m sorry for the trouble I’m causing.”

…

Sam turned on the path, intent on taking another circuit of the park before returning to the apartment...and him. A roil of emotions welled up in her gut as she remembered the last time he’d been in her apartment. Longing. Affection. Rage. None of which were going to be useful in this situation. 

“Well hello, gorgeous, and hello puppy.” Sam smiled as a huge muscled arm draped across her shoulders and gave her an affectionate squeeze, as Marshall Law kissed her cheek. “Glad I caught you at walkies. Want some company?”

“Always.” Sam enthused warmly, falling into step with him. “I forgot to tell you that I need to put off our plans for tomorrow. Charles is staying with me.”

Marshall raised an eyebrow at her, mock scowl on his face, “Replacing me already?”

She laughed, the tension in her shoulders easing with his effervescent presence, “Nothing like that, goofy. He’s just gotten out of the hospital and hasn’t found a place to live yet. My apartment is set up for someone with lung problems, you recall?”

“Lung problems? What happened?” Marshall’s kind concern never failed to touch her. 

“He has pretty bad pneumonia. The doctors said something about mold exposure. He’s lucky to be alive. He’s going to be weak for a while so I bullied him into staying with me.”

Marshall dropped another kiss on her head. “That sounds like my Sam. You ready to head back?” She nodded at him, finally relaxing for the first time in days.

…

Charles heard quiet giggling as the door opened. Through the portal from the bedroom to her small living area, Charles saw Samara come in the door, followed very closely by one Benjamin Lawson. 

He watched them tease one another, affably before he offered her a lingering hug and a tender kiss on the top of her head, before the other man offered Bowser a gentle pat and left again.

Jealousy, panic and pain rose up like bile in his gut. It didn’t help ease any of what he was feeling when Samara had given her neighbor the same sweet smile she used to give Charles.  _ I’m too late,  _ he thought with despair.  _ You’re such an idiot Jones. _

  
  
  



	5. 5

_ “I sent my Soul through the Invisible, _

_ Some letter of that After-life to spell: _

_ And by and by my Soul return'd to me, _

_ And answer'd: 'I Myself am Heav'n and Hell” _

_ ―  _ **_Omar Khayyam_ **

  
  


Heaven on Earth was watching the woman you love sparkle with confidence. Charles had weeks to watch Samara in her element. During the beginning of his recovery, she’d worked from home, curled up on the couch with her laptop and during his brief forays out of her bedroom he saw her, deep in concentration, the picture of poised efficiency. As he grew stronger, and was able to fend for himself, she returned to the office, and he watched her leave every day with a pang, her professional attire far more sleek and svelte than it had ever been. She returned each afternoon, bringing energy and life into her small apartment.

Heaven was sitting with her on her low couch, her small dog between them, watching films and talking about her day. It was her company on the short walks he was able to manage while he grew stronger, and his breathing felt less like a fight. It was how she held onto his arm, checked his skin for fever. Even though things were strained between them, simply being near again was worth any amount of hardship. He cherished these moments.

Heaven was gentle squeezes of his arm, home cooked meals, gentle sassy quips with no barbs when they bickered. It was how they so easily connected intellectually.

Charles’ own personal hell was all of those things coupled with the knowledge that he’d let her down, and she’d moved on without him. When he saw that her smile no longer reached her eyes when she gave it to him it hit him like a punch to the gut every time. They had agreed to talk, but they’d both been creeping around the subject of his radio silence over the past year like it was a live grenade. Perhaps it was.

But if something didn’t break this tension soon, he was going to go mad. 

Charles drummed his fingers on his knee, staring at the email on the screen of his laptop without seeing it. He’d recovered enough over the previous weeks to start working in short bursts again. He’d managed to secure a five year lease on office space in a high rise not terribly far from his previous employer. Contractors would begin outfitting the space according to the architectural plans he’d approved the following week. He could begin conducting interviews for managerial staff once that was mostly completed. 

It was time for him to find a place to live. He didn’t need supervision any longer, and as reluctant as he was to part from the comfort of her home, Samara deserved her privacy. He clenched his jaw as his mind strayed to the possible uses for that privacy. Charles had known that there was a possibility she’d move on, but the reality of it hurt far worse than he’d been expecting.

He cursed under his breath and shook off the gloom. He leaned into his hand and reread his missive to the real estate agent once again. Satisfied with it, he hit send and shut the lid of his laptop. Weariness stole over him suddenly, and he stretched out on her couch, pulling the light blanket up to his shoulders, and gazing at the ceiling while he pictured her sad eyes. He closed his eyes against the resurgence of pain. 

He felt a gentle tap at his arm where it lay on the edge of the sofa and he opened one eye to find Bowser pawing his arm and looking up at him expectantly. Warmth suffused him and he patted his leg. Bowser bound up onto the couch and circled, settling on Charles outstretched legs. Charles settles his hand on the pup’s head, delivering some gentle scratches behind the ear before they both drifted off to sleep.

  
  
  
  


Sam paused outside her apartment door and took a few deep calming breaths. Work had been frustrating and hectic, and her mind felt frazzled. She wasn’t looking forward to being home all evening with the tension that hung over her every interaction with Charles. She had so many questions, so much to say, but she didn’t want to put strain on him while he was getting better. The longer she waited, though, the tighter the knot in her belly grew. Her nerves felt exposed every time they sat near each other. 

She wasn’t used to feeling this angry, and she definitely wasn’t used to holding it in. Having a grudge was foreign to her and she didn’t like it at all. She didn’t exactly want to fight with him, but she was really close to the end of her last nerve. If she bit her tongue any longer, she was going to cease to have one.

After one last steadying breath, she turned her key and pressed her door open, surprised to find the apartment dark and quiet. Her eyes fell on the sleeping forms of her houseguest and her tiny dog, curled up on the couch deeply asleep. Her heart lurched in her chest. As quietly as she was able, she set her bag down and gently closed the door before she crept around her small coffee table.

Charles looked peaceful, and she couldn’t hear the strained rattle that came with his breathing when he first came to her. Still, she felt his head, relieved not to find the telltale clammy heat that came with his fever. It seemed he was through the worst of his illness. Slumping with relief on the cushion next to him, she found her fingers sliding through his silky blonde hair, wondering how things had ended up so wrong when at one point, things had been so right.

Long, elegant fingers closed over her arm, dragging her hand from his hair to Charles soft lips. His eyes were glittering slits and he dropped a soft kiss on the pulse of her wrist and murmured, “Mmm. Hello, Bunty,” in a groggy voice. She froze.

“Ch-Charles? What are you doing?” she squeaked out as she saw his lashes close again and he tucked her hand into the crook of his arm, sighing with what she thought might be happiness. She jerked her hand away and his eyes snapped open, suddenly alert.

“Samara?” he queried, voice still thick with sleep, pushing himself up on his elbows. “Are you alright?” He pushed the hair out of his eyes, his whole being radiating concern. Bowser perked up too, looking at her with big, watery eyes.

She stood suddenly, paced away from the sofa, hand fisted at her sides. She kept her back to him, breathing through her teeth slowly, trying to hold back the pit of anger that had been building since her phone rang more than a month ago. “No, Charles. I’m not alright. I’ve had a horrible day and you...I’m frustrated with you.” She winced when she heard her tone.

Behind her she heard him take a sharp breath, but she didn’t look. “That’s more than fair,” he replied sadly. “I have not been a good friend to you. I contacted a real estate agency, and I’ll be moving into a new penthouse next week. I just need to order furniture. If...if you could help me with that, just for a little longer, I will get out of your hair. You can have your space again, and if you want, you never have to see me again, Samara.” She whirled to face him.

“Don’t you  _ dare  _ say that! If I didn’t want to see you I wouldn’t have had you here. It’s not like between my family and your job, the resources didn’t exist that could have seen you taken care of without me. I. Am. Your.  _ Friend _ . Charles. Jones.” She bit out through a clenched jaw. “No matter how angry with you I am, I am still your friend and I’m not letting you get away with your behavior by hiding again. You don’t get to flit in and out of my life at your convenience, Jones.”

She saw him flinch, and she crossed her arms under her chest and glared at him. “You ghosted me, Charles. Like a  _ coward _ .” He hung his head, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth. “Well, I think now is as good a time as any for you to explain yourself to me. We talked, every week, for two months, then  _ nothing _ from you. For over a  _ year.  _ One day, I called you like I thought I was supposed to and  _ your phone was disconnected! _ ” her tone yet again made him flinch, shame clear on his face for the pain he had caused.

Charles leaned into his hands, wiping them down his face in a gesture that spoke of discomfort, but she held her chin high and waited. “I don’t have a good reason. All the excuses I told myself over the last year, in hindsight, look weak to me. I missed you so much more than I was comfortable with, and I retreated from you out of fear, Samara. After all the lectures I gave you about not getting attached, I sat in my office in London, and my heart was here with you.” Sam’s jaw fell open, but he continued, oblivious to the shock on her face, “Those first few weeks, when we’d speak on the weekends, I found myself counting the hours until our call. When those phone calls ended, I  _ ached _ . I - stupidly - blamed the phone calls. I thought if I gave myself a little more emotional distance from you I could let you go. When Ellesmere gave me my company phone and I disconnected the American number, I simply didn’t tell you. Aside from not waking you up to say goodbye, it’s the most cowardly thing I’ve done in my life and I’m wholeheartedly ashamed of myself, Samara. I owe you an apology, but ‘I’m sorry’ really doesn’t seem sufficient.” 

“Did it work?” she asked him coldly, finally perching on the very end of the couch, arms still crossed over herself protectively.

“Not even a little bit, Bunty. Having behaved so shamefully, I tried to move on with my life but I found myself wondering about you at the oddest times. That’s why when the board announced intentions to open a California branch, I campaigned to be the one to run it. I was hoping to surprise you,” he smiled at her weakly. “I think I managed that at least, though not how I would wish.”

She shook her head at him, a slight tick in her jaw, “Dad told me you’d been back here six weeks. Why didn’t you call me then. You  _ obviously _ kept my phone number even though you forgot how to use it.”

He winced again - Link had been telling the truth about the change in her attitude. She spoke to him with fire, and despite the obvious distress she was in, her voice had not wavered in the slightest, “You’re not wrong. I thought about calling you. I thought about showing up here with flowers. I simply was too afraid of your reaction. I hate seeing you distressed, Bunty,” he added quietly. “Knowing that I deserve your anger doesn’t make it any easier to see it in your face. All I can offer, now, is to start over and be a better friend to you than I have been in the past. And that starts with returning your home to you, so you and Benjamin can have your privacy and I don’t intrude any longer.”

The bitterness in the last sentence made her lean forward and study his face. “Charles, are you really getting jealous in the middle of your apology?” She almost laughed. 

He offered her a half smile, “I can’t help that, Samara. Rest assured I harbor no ill will, it’s just hard for me to see.”

“He prefers to be called Marshall most of the time, and he and I are friends. Just friends, Charles. There was something more than that, but it wasn’t right for either of us.  _ Not _ ,” she added firmly, “that you have any right to know.”

He held up a hand to her, trying not to show the relief that just eased something in his chest, “Please, you’re correct. Let me rephrase then. I think the first steps toward seeing if you can forgive me is to get out of your apartment so you don’t have to look at me constantly.” He kicked up a corner of his mouth. “Can we start over?”

She considered him thoughtfully, chin propped in her hands. The anger was leaking out of her but she still had a few more things to ask about. “Tell me about the butterfly clip. I saw it in your luggage. Were you using it the same way you used your wedding ring? As some sort of protective talisman to remind yourself not to care for someone?” Her eyes started glittering with tears, just like the day she saw the gleam of pearl on top of his luggage.

He started forward, closing the distance between them, wrapping his arms around her. “ _ Absolutely not, _ ” he breathed, closing her in a hard hug, tucking her under his chin, “I will admit I kept it with me as a reminder, but of joy, Samara, and of kindness. Of  _ you.”  _ He rocked her gently when she finally sobbed, the sound shook him down to his core. “I told you, I missed you. I’d tucked it into my pocket...that night. After I took it out of your hair. I only found it when I left and looking at it made me smile. I just wanted to keep that piece of you. Were you really afraid that I’d resented you that way?”

She looked up at him and nodded at him through her tears, and he cursed himself. “Please forgive me, Bunty. I’m the worst sort of heel.”

She sniffled, pushing at his chest, drawing herself up. With a shuddering breath she replied, “I already told you before, I forgave you a long time ago. I just needed to know exactly what I was forgiving you for. Let’s get dinner, and we can talk about your furniture, Charles.”

Charles heaved a huge sigh of relief, closing his fingers over hers with a gentle squeeze, “How does Italian sound? My treat.” She nodded at him, swallowing down her tears.

“Let me get changed,” she mumbled, rising and striding into her bedroom. 

Charles felt a knot of pain that had anchored itself in his chest for so long unravel, and his soul took a stride out of the hellish torment he’d been enduring in his mind. It wasn’t what he’d hoped for, but he’d gotten far more forgiveness than he felt he deserved.


End file.
